Loverboy
by Miss-Murdered
Summary: Duo finds that Heero goes to extreme measures to find out about his feelings. 1x2. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I own nothin'

Pairings/ Warnings: 1x2, a tiny teeny mention of a 2+3 crush as Trowa is a sneaky bastard and appears in fics he's not meant to, m/m sexual relations, smut, angst, light bondage

A/N: This was beta'd by ELLE and written in October, I think? For which-that-yields who requested prisoner/interrogator smut Inspired by the song _Loverboy_ by You Me at Six

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**Loverboy**

When Duo woke, he was disorientated, his eyelids heavy and a cloying sickly taste in his mouth. It took a moment for him to register his surroundings – a steel grey interrogation room, one on the bottom floor of Preventer HQ by his best guess – and his current situation.

He was on an uncomfortable metal chair, a shiny table in front of him, his wrists tied behind his back with not rope but leather as he looked down to see his belt had been removed and he figured that was what was restraining them. His shirt was undone, hanging open over his black tank, and the air was frigid, cold, his nipples reacting to that temperature. Duo tested the belt around his wrists, it was not too tight – he would be able to get out of it if he tried but right now, he needed to evaluate the situation before making a decision regarding his course of action.

He thought about how he ended up here and what time could have passed. The taste in his mouth suggested some kind of chemical – chloroform? – as he remembered a hand around his neck and a cloth over his mouth and nothing else.

He'd just walked back into his office after a briefing at about four p.m., he guessed, and then he couldn't recollect anything. Duo wriggled in the chair and against his bonds and looked up to the camera in the corner, the lack of red light indicating that it was not recording. That made him curious.

The cold, the belt, his undone shirt and the camera gave him a little clue as to what this was but then he thought no. Surely fucking not.

Or maybe fucking _yes._ The door to the room opened and Duo swallowed as Heero entered. It wasn't that he was in a vulnerable position and his lover had walked in with a very… feral look in his eyes that made him a little breathless. It was the uniform.

Fuck. Where the hell did Heero get an OZ uniform? The green one – the one Trowa had worn at Lunar Base and all of a sudden Duo knew why Heero was doing this as he walked over to the other side of the metal table, the door banging shut behind him. Heero grabbed the other chair in the room, dragging it under the handle to prevent anyone entering.

Duo felt a shiver pass through him – not just because of the cold.

He may have said something along the lines of how he found Trowa hot. As a joke. Okay, a half joke as the guy was all muscles and tall and had incredible eyes. Damn, Heero just shouldn't have asked about any sexual fantasies he had as really, he'd been a little drunk on liquor and the post-coital haze of a good fuck and he couldn't help it that a threesome was in his head. And he may have said Trowa as he was single. And pretty open to anything. So he'd heard. And _flexible_.

He should've known that it was something that would rile Heero. That had made him pull back on his braid, pin him to the bed roughly, drag his fingernails down his chest and mouth and nip at every patch of flesh until he fucked him again, harder, a little desperate, incredibly passionate. It had been two days ago and Duo still ran his fingers to the bruises, scratches and bite marks, still felt like the aftershocks were thrumming just under his skin.

Heero stalked over, leaned against the metal table in front of him and grabbed at Duo's chin roughly, making him meet his eyes.

True, he gave Heero a reason to be like this, as really his rep had been pretty terrible prior to their hot, sweaty fuck in the supply closet. Duo had felt like he could do _anything_ post war and that meant _doing_ anyone he wanted. He'd walked into work plenty of times with sunglasses covering his eyes, his braid mussed, his voice cracked. And he knew Heero had seen him at office parties, Quatre's functions and in bars finding someone to kiss hard and take home. He had experience. And while Heero had not reached twenty-two without some, that was very clear to Duo, his experience was not as wide-ranging and regular as his. So he maybe was insecure. And one stupid ass comment led to this.

"Duo Maxwell," Heero said, his voice level, emotionless, "Gundam pilot 02… captured."

Duo wasn't sure how Heero wanted him to play it but he went for defiant, moving his head away and averting his eyes, only for Heero to grab for his braid, wrap it around his hand and jerk his head back roughly. Duo was tempted to spit but then thought that went a bit far for whatever this game was but damn, Heero knew better – his hair was not a leash and he was protective of it. OZ Interrogator Heero didn't know that though and so Duo only scowled and bit his tongue as Heero brought his face close, their eyes looking directly into each other.

"I have questions. You answer them truthfully. Understand?"

"Or what?"

Heero came behind him then, ran his fingers lightly over his shoulder and then leaned down, his breath moist and wet against his neck, still holding his braid.

"This," he murmured and bit down, hard, his mouth then sucking at the wound, his tongue laving it, the feeling going straight to Duo's dick, hardening under the attention.

Sometimes he thought with all Heero's biting – his marking him – that he must've been a fucking vampire in a past life but then he didn't care as he enjoyed the pain/pleasure sensation.

"Whaddya wanna know?" he asked, panting slightly.

Heero returned to his position in front of him, releasing his braid, and his eyes glinted dangerously.

"Have you slept with anyone else since we started?"

"Fuckin' hell, Heero! I would never do that shhi –"

His indignant rant was halted by a hand across his mouth and another sliding down his chest, a hard pinch to a nipple, enough to make a spark shift underneath his skin, arousing him further. Heero pressed his advantage, ghosting his fingers over the thin material of his tank top, over his abs, stopping at the waist band of uniform pants. Duo licked at the hand over his mouth, sliding his tongue over warm skin, Heero's fingers faltering for a second and a small moan leaving Heero's lips at the contact. Yet Duo's distraction didn't stop Heero for long. He removed the hand from his mouth and placed it on Duo's groin, palming him through material, his cock fully hard from the assured, confident touch.

"Do you want anyone else?" Heero asked, his hand rubbing over his cloth covered cock, harder, faster – the friction of material making him moan.

"No… no one but you…"

Heero smirked, pushed his legs apart roughly, kneeling between them and Duo tried to move against his restraints then as Heero undid the button, pulled apart the teeth of the zipper, moved aside boxer shorts and without any warning went down on him. His hands were firm on Duo's thighs, stopping him from bucking up at the first contact of warm, wet heat as Heero's lips slid around the head of his cock – licking at him, lapping around the slit, his dark hair obscuring his eyes as Duo watched, panting.

The torture was worse than anything OZ could've dreamt up as Duo's hands were restrained and he was unable to force Heero down onto his dick and his hips were stopped from moving up by Heero's firm grip. All he could do was surrender to Heero's talented mouth.

There was a change of tactics then, Heero running his tongue along the length to base, moving back to tip with what felt like open-mouthed kisses, saliva leaving a slick trail and a cool feeling in its wake due to the cold air of the interrogation room.

"Fuck…" was all Duo could manage to say as Heero opened his mouth further, taking him in, bobbing up and down until he was deepthroating him, his throat swallowing, a moan around his dick making Duo throw back his head, his braid hitting the metallic floor, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. Shit, Heero hadn't gone down on him like this before. And fuck, he was powerless.

So powerless that when that warmth, that friction left him, Duo could only thrust forward into empty air, his body tingling, over sensitised, desperate to come hard. He struggled against the leather of the belt, determined then to regain use of his hands to force Heero to complete his task but Heero had hold of his cheek, a thumb, rough – calluses from years of mobile suit piloting and training, guns and knives – rubbing against his skin.

"Do you want me?"

"Shit… I always wanted you," Duo said, gently. "You coulda had me any fuckin' time, 'Ro. I wanted you since we were fifteen."

It was true. If Heero had let him goddamn know… he wouldn't have fucked all the people he had. He wouldn't have indulged in every offer that came his way if he'd realised that those looks that Heero had been giving him were want and desire. Not disgust. Disapproval. Dislike. It had taken so long for him to see Heero's blue eyes like they were now. Intense, lust filled, passionate. He just wished he'd known sooner.

They kissed then – open-mouthed, tongues sliding, slick, Duo moaning into it as Heero's hand went down to his cock, stroking him, tugging him, the mix of saliva and pre-cum easing his movement. It was getting too much for him and Heero sensed that, his hand drawing away.

Their lips parted and Heero resumed his position on his knees, Duo watching as he took his dick back into his mouth, and this time his hands not so hard on his hips, letting Duo thrust into his mouth shallowly, Duo watching his cock slide in and out of those talented lips. Looking down at Heero, dark wild hair, that green OZ jacket, those tight white uniform pants was a definite turn on. The visual, the flick of his tongue and then a hum were all it took, Duo coming hard, his hips twitching upwards and his mind blanking.

Heero swallowed, Duo feeling it around his flesh and then he lapped at him, tasting everything until he was done, clean. He rose back to his feet and leaned against the table, folding his arms across his chest as Duo sagged into the chair – spent, sated, euphoric.

"Do you want…?" Duo asked, unsure suddenly, looking up at Heero's stormy eyes.

He didn't reply, instead, Heero walked slowly, deliberately to his back to undo the belt, the leather sliding off him, falling down to the floor, the buckle making a noise as it hit the ground. Duo moved his hands, rubbed his wrists where they had been restrained and he heard Heero's voice behind him, soft.

"I needed to know you wanted me," Heero said.

Duo stood then, quickly, the chair falling and clattering loudly in the room. He reached out, touched Heero's face and moved a bang of his hair to the side gently to reveal his usually blank expression showing confusion, want, need.

"I always wanted you, 'Ro," Duo said and he pushed him to the wall, his hand reaching out to Heero's crotch to feel the hard cock restrained in white uniform pants. "Let me show you how much."


End file.
